


outtakes

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Outtakes, bitty's vlog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: There are a lot of things that never actually make it into Bitty's vlog. Like freshman dorm murder noises, late night musings and visits from Jack Zimmermann.





	

**#1**

“Hey guys,” Bitty says, waving at his camera. “I–”

He’s interrupted by a loud crashing noise, but it’s followed by a hoot, so he can safely assume that nobody just died in the room next to his.

Bitty sighs at the camera. Three words. He managed to get out a total of three words before all hell broke loose. He doesn’t have a roommate and for a while he thought that the Freshman Dorm Gods had smiled upon him, but the people in the rooms that bracket his are a challenge at times. At least twice a week. Occasionally also twice a day.

Anyway, Bitty wasn’t expecting absolute silence all day every day, but he also wasn’t expecting that he’d have to endure the sounds of people potentially getting murdered next door all the time. Or people getting up to other… _things_.

Well, he’ll just have to edit out the murder noises in the vlogs he does this year. And the sex noises, too.

He stops the recording and starts over. “Hi y’all, so I might have–”

Someone shrieks in the hallway.

Six words. Not that he’s counting or anything.

“Are you kidding me?” Bitty whispers.

He hits _stop_ again. One more time, then.

“Hey everyone! So I might have snuck into the kitchen at the Haus again,” Bitty says. “It’s not like those boys–” _Thump_. “–actually cook–” _Thump_. “–all that much–” _Thump_. “–in there.”

Bitty takes a deep breath.

“This is fine,” he says. He’s still recording, even though he definitely can’t use this take with all that thumping. “It’s fine. This is what college is supposed to be like, right? Wouldn’t be–”

 _Thump_.

“Maybe I should bake my neighbors a pie. Guess they could use one with how they’re exerting themselves.”

A door slams shut somewhere down the hall.

Bitty pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe Sunday afternoon is not the greatest time to record a video. Maybe his dorm room is not the greatest place to record a video either. He could try to record it at the Haus instead, but–

“Jack hates me,” Bitty says.

He might as well get it all out; it’s not like he’s going to use this recording anyway. It’s not like he can with all the noise pollution.

“When I was at the Haus,” Bitty goes on, “he got home while I was baking and he came into the kitchen and he–” _Thump_. “He looked at me like… like I had two heads and was stealing his precious protein shakes or somethin’. And he said,” Bitty lowers his voice, “ _Bittle, I wasn’t expecting to see you here._ ”

Which roughly translates as, _Bittle, get the hell out._

Bitty rolls his eyes. Jack doesn’t want him in the Haus. Jack doesn’t want him on the ice and Jack doesn’t want him on his team. Jack probably wants him back in Georgia.

Someone honest-to-God moans in the next room.

“I have never done anything wrong in my entire life, y’all,” Bitty says. “I don’t deserve this.” He heaves a sigh. “Anyway… I finished that pie real quick this morning when Jack showed up. That boy has a glare, I’m telling ya. It’s not like I’m not sharing the pie I make at the Haus, it’s for all of them.”

It doesn’t seem to matter to Jack, though. Jack doesn’t want him around, it’s as simple as that. He doesn’t want his pie around either. He wants his life Bitty-free.

Bitty stares down at his keyboard. “And it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose,” he says. “The thing with the checking, that is. It’s just…” Bitty shrugs. He’s not sure why he’s still recording; he’ll delete it all later. Maybe it’s because, even though no one will ever get to see this, it feels like someone’s listening.

He’d try to talk to his Mama about it, except she’d say something like, _You’ll get through this, Dicky_ , and it’d help for a second or two, but it’s not exactly a solution. Once he’s back on the ice, he’ll still be scared.

“I have no idea what to do,” Bitty says. “Like, it’s not gonna go away on its own, is it?” He can’t ignore this, as much as he wants to. There has to be someone he can go to for advice. The answer’s pretty obvious, too. Jack’s their captain and it’s him Bitty should talk to about this. But Jack hates him. Which is slightly counterproductive.

Bitty chews on his bottom lip, glances at the camera, and then ends the recording.

 

**#2**

“So, what you’re gonna have to do after you add the…” The what? The sugar. “After you add the sugar, you…”

Bitty rubs his eyes. There goes that take. It’s the third one and maybe it’s time for him to admit to himself that it’s just not happening today. _Nothing_ is happening today. His homework isn't happening and there’s no studying happening either.

He kept telling himself that he’d start _in five minutes_ all afternoon. Then he decided he’d give recording his vlog another try because the entire floor was astoundingly quiet. There’s never been a better time, but every time Bitty tries to put a smile on his face, it crumples, every time he tries to sound cheerful, it comes out stilted and awkward.

And while his followers don’t mind hearing about his life at Samwell, Bitty doesn’t really feel like broadcasting exactly how miserable he is today all over the internet. Complaining about being woken up for checking practice is one thing, but he’s not going to tell the world that all he wants to do is to curl up in bed and never go anywhere ever again.

Gosh, he’s so glad that his Mama doesn’t watch his videos.

Anyway. It’ll be fine. It’ll pass. He just needs to suck it up. Then again… he’s already ruined this take, right?

“The thing is,” Bitty says, “I thought Jack and I were… I’m not gonna say _friends_ , but I guess I thought we were getting along? At least a little bit. But then that game against Yale happened and…” And it all went to hell.

Ever since the game against Yale, Bitty is right back at square one with Jack.

“I wish I knew what I did wrong, you know?” Bitty says. He fiddles with a pen and it goes flying all the way across the room. “I mean, Jack is still trying to help me with my, uh, checking issue, but… I can just tell that he doesn’t wanna be there. And, I get it, it’s his team and I need to get over this, but I don’t even know why he’s trying to help me in the first place, because he _hates_ me. I scored and we won the game and he still hates me.”

Bitty sinks a bit further down in his chair.

“And…”

He rubs his nose. He’s not so sure why he thought that talking about it would make him feel better.

“And Mama was here for family weekend and I…”

Bitty covers his eyes, like that’s going to help.

He loves Samwell, he knows he made the right choice coming here. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. But maybe… Maybe he’d like to be in Mama Bittle’s kitchen, just for a while. Bake a pie with his mom. Talk about the latest family gossip.

Bitty misses all of that. He misses his MooMaw. He misses talking about football with Coach over breakfast. And, sure, he’ll go home for Christmas, but right now Georgia is a million miles away and Christmas won’t roll around for a million years either.  

Obviously he could just give his Mama a call, but he’s scared that he’ll burst into tears the second she calls him Dicky.

“I mean,” Bitty says, and sucks in a deep breath, “the guys are great, really, they’re…” He sniffles. “I have no good reason to feel like this… I shouldn’t…”

He turns off his camera.

No more.

He’s going to grab Señor Bunny, pull his comforter over his head and take a nap. Maybe he can sneak into the Haus tomorrow and make some mini pies. He’ll just have to hope that he won’t run into Jack.

“Ugh,” Bitty says and deletes everything he recorded that day.

 

**#3**

“Hey, everyone! I got a bunch of questions recently and…” Bitty trails off into a groan.

He’s written the questions down, he knows what they are, but they keep slipping away from him. He glances at his notes. Question number one: _What’s a good pie to start with for someone who has zero baking experience?_

“Focus,” Bitty tells himself.

But he can’t. His skin is buzzing.

“Okay, you know what…” Bitty’s practically bouncing up and down in this chair. “I told Shitty.”

He. Told. Shitty.

“I said it.”

Out loud!

“For the first time. And it was fine. I think…” Bitty can’t really keep the huge grin that overtakes his face. “I might tell the other guys, too. Maybe not right away, but I think they’ll actually… be fine with it.”

Bitty planned the whole thing. He had _notes_. He had an entire speech written down. He spent an entire week worrying, all day, all night, kept telling himself that it’d be fine, that there was no reason to be scared.

“It was fine,” Bitty says. “It was good. And Shitty was so good about it, too. And he said the team would have my back and I’m just…”

Bitty laughs. He’s so happy. It took him eighteen years to get to this point. He said it. And it went fine. And he has friends and he still has over three years at Samwell ahead of him and he finally believes that college won’t be like high school. He can be himself here.

He can be Bitty, who likes boys and plays hockey and bakes pies.

He can have this.

“Anyway… Starting over.”

Bitty restarts the recording, his smile so big that you could think he won the lottery. Which he did, in a way.

“All right, y’all, I–”

Someone knocks on his door.

“Uh…” Bitty glares over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

 _Jack_.

Jack Zimmermann, right outside his door.

“Jack?” Bitty scrambles out of his chair, nearly slipping on socked feet on his way to the door. Did he forget about practice? He yanks open the door, a little breathless.

Jack, hands in his pockets, is hovering in the hallway, looking decidedly awkward.

“What are you doin’ here?”

Jack makes the same face he makes when Bitty messes up a pass at practice. “Bittle,” Jack says. That boy has regrets. Bitty can see them written all over his face.

Okay, maybe Bitty didn’t sound like he was too happy to see him here. “I’m just… not used to seeing you here after five in the morning,” he says quickly, trying his best to sound at least moderately pleasant. He’s just a bit scared that Jack’s about to drag him off for an impromptu checking practice. He was having a really good day so far. Like, an exceptionally good day and Bitty doesn’t want it to be ruined by anything. Least of all Jack Zimmermann. “What’s up?”

“Team’s going to Jerry’s for dinner, are you coming?”

“I…” Bitty glances at his phone. He’s pretty sure that he didn’t get any texts about dinner. “I didn’t know we were going out for dinner?”

“Neither did I until five minutes ago. Anyway, I was… in the area. I told Shitty I’d pick you up.”

“Right.”

“Are you coming, then?”

“Just a second,” Bitty says, smiling at Jack, maybe a little too brightly, and pushes the door shut. “I’m just gonna get my coat.”

Bitty pulls on his coat, his scarf, and then spends a good two minutes looking for his hat. He unearths it from under his bed. So far so good.

“Bittle?”

“One second.”

Great. Jack’s waiting right outside his door and Bitty’s taking forever. He’s probably grumpy already. And Bitty is looking at a long walk to Jerry’s, and it’ll be just him and Jack, and Jack probably has nothing at all to say to him, except for maybe, _Bittle, you need to eat more protein_.

Anyway. Shoes. Bitty forgot about his shoes.

And he’s still recording.

“Bittle, don’t forget your gloves,” Jack calls from outside the door. “It’s snowing.”

Bitty pulls on his shoes, stuffs his gloves into his pockets, and scrambles over to his laptop. He blinks at the camera. “Was he just… being nice?” Bitty whispers.

He shakes his head at himself. Then he ends the recording.

 

**#4**

“–you definitely need to make sure that the butter isn’t–”

“You can’t wear this shirt,” Holster shouts upstairs.

“Gosh, Holster just let him wear the shirt, it's his funeral.” Bitty glares at the ceiling. “Why did I think this’d get easier once I moved into the Haus?”

Granted, there are a lot less murder noises. Instead he gets Jack yelling at Shitty – it’s usually something along the lines of _put on pants or get out of my bed_ – and a daily update of The Latest Gossip with Ransom and Holster. Because Holster doesn’t have an inside voice.

Bitty loves the Haus. He loves his room. He loves having a kitchen right downstairs. Having Jack across the hall isn’t as much of a disaster as Bitty might have thought. They sent texts back and forth all summer. Not just in the group chat. He’s not sure how they didn’t run out of things to talk about in the course of two months.

Bitty looks around. It’s quiet.

He narrows his eyes at the silence, because it’s really too good to be true.

He restarts the recording, even though he’s highly suspicious. “When you’re getting started on that dough, you need to make sure that–”

“Bitty, m’dude, I want to fucking marry this pie.”

“Thanks, Shitty!” Bitty sighs. “Never a quiet minute in this Haus.” He’ll try again tomorrow morning when everyone but him is out. Bitty smiles at the camera. “I love them, though. I do.”

“You can’t wear that either. The colors,” Holster shouts, “are _clashing_.”

“I’m not taking fashion advice from you,” Ransom replies, quieter, but still perfectly audible.

“Well, you should.”

“No, I fucking shouldn’t, your sweatpants are covered in Cheeto dust.”

“Whatever, man. You’re not wearing these.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m throwing them–”

“Stop it!”

“I’m doing it for real this time, I’m throwing them out the fucking window.”

“Bro, what the fuck?”

“You know how I feel about those shorts.”

Footsteps come bounding down the stairs. A door is yanked open across the hall.

“Jack, bro,” Holster says, “help me out here.”

There’s some scuffling, some mumbling, then Jack says, “Sorry, but I really need to talk to Bittle, about… something.”

Bitty’s already expecting the knock on his door that follows a mere moment later. “Come on in,” he says and turns away from his laptop.

Jack slips into Bitty’s room, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t want to get involved in that.”

Holster and Ransom’s argument is, it seems, moved into Shitty’s room. Bitty can still hear them bickering. Jack could probably make it back across the hallway safely, but he doesn’t seem to be too keen on leaving.

Jack leans against the door. “So,” he says. “Looks like we’ll be having a class together, eh?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Bitty says. A year ago he would have been horrified by the prospect of being in a class with Jack, because that would have given Jack even more time to glare at him, but now? They’re… well, Bitty will go as far as saying that they’re _friends_. He nods at his bed. “D’you wanna sit?”

“Oh,” Jack sidles over to Bitty bed and gingerly sits down, at the very edge of the mattress.

Bitty is, all of a sudden, very much aware that Jack has never actually been in his room for a prolonged amount of time ever since Bitty moved in. Sometimes he comes in to tell Bitty that they’re leaving for dinner or picks him up before practice, but he never sticks around.

They end up in the kitchen together a lot, though, Bitty baking and Jack at the table with his laptop, and they’ll talk and Jack will chirp him about the flour on his clothes.

Bitty sees Jack’s eyes widen by a fraction when he sees Señor Bunny’s ears poking out from under his pillow. Jack’s lips twitch. “Who’s your friend?”

“Shush, you,” Bitty says.

“Hey, I was just trying to be polite. We haven’t met, so maybe I wanted to introduce myself.” Jack tilts his head, eyes narrowed. “Are you recording a video?”

“Whoops,” Bitty says. “Forgot about that.” He quickly turns it off.

 

**#5**

“I’m not even going to post this, but…”

But Bitty’s mind is so full of thoughts and he needs to get them out somehow. And since it’s three in the morning, Bitty doesn’t exactly have too many options right now. Of course he could have just stayed in bed and squeezed his eyes shut, could have hoped that he’d fall asleep eventually, or he could have mumbled it all to Señor Bunny. But instead he got up and is now recording _whatever this is_ , in his pajamas, with his hair sticking up, tired and bleary-eyed. He didn’t even bother to set up his good camera; he’s recording it with his webcam.

“We’re going to the Frozen Four,” Bitty says. “And I… I’m so proud of the boys, they’ve been playing so well. The thing is…”

The thing is, it’s all ending. The season is ending, and then Jack and Shitty are going to leave, and then Bitty’s going back to Georgia for the entire summer and then half of his time at Samwell is already going to be over.

“It’s all happening too fast.”

The thought of going home feels even stranger this year than it did after his freshman year. He can’t wait to get off the plane in Georgia and hug his Mama, but, unlike last year, he’s already thinking about coming back in August.

All Bitty wants is more time. More time with Jack and Shitty, more time to play hockey, more time at Samwell. He’s going to miss them and he’s going to miss the Haus. He doesn’t even know if he’s going to see Jack and Shitty after they graduate. Shitty won’t be far away, sure, but Jack? He might end up on the other side of the country.

After Bitty’s mumbled all of that to his camera, he feels better by a smidgen. He’s still not sure if he’ll be able to sleep, though.

“I’m just no good at goodbyes,” Bitty says.

There’s also that thing with Jack… Well, first of all, it’s not an actual _thing_. It’s a crush. A ridiculous crush. And Bitty knows that nothing will come of it, and he knows that Jack probably won’t even be part of his life anymore after he graduates, because he’ll be a big NHL star, but his brain doesn’t care about that.

So sometimes he’ll see Jack standing in the kitchen and he’ll just wonder what it would be like if he could come up behind Jack and wrap his arms around him and bury his face between Jack’s shoulder blades, and he’ll wonder what it might feel like to kiss him, what it might feel like if Jack touched him. Bitty knows that he shouldn’t, because it’s making everything a bazillion times worse, but every time Jack looks at him, Bitty can’t look away.

He doesn’t want to forget. Not about the way Jack smiles at him right after he chirps him, or the way he looks at Bitty after he scores. Whatever happens at the Frozen Four, they’ll never play together again afterwards.

Bitty stares at himself, grainy on his laptop screen, lit up from behind by his bedside lamp. He didn’t bother turning on the ceiling light; he was never planning on posting any of this. He just wanted to get it off his chest.

He’s very nearly convinced himself that it’s time to go back to bed when there’s a quiet knock on his door.

“Yeah?”

“Bittle,” Jack says, his voice muffled.

“Jack?”

The door opens by a few inches and Jack appears. “Bittle,” he says, “are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Bitty replies. It comes out sounding too much like a question.

Jack nods, but he doesn’t leave. “It’s just… I saw your lights were on and… It’s late. I just wanted to check.”

“I’m okay.” Bitty, miraculously, manages to smile at Jack. He’s still hovering in the doorway and he doesn’t look nearly as rumpled as someone who spent the last couple of hours sleeping should. Which means there’s a chance that he wasn’t. Bitty isn’t sure if Jack would tell him the truth if he asked him if _he_ was okay, so he asks, “Why are you awake?”

Jack seems to find Bitty’s floor incredibly interesting all of a sudden. “It’s, uh… you know.”

But Bitty doesn’t know, he can just guess, because Jack must be under so much pressure right now, with all the teams he’s getting offers from, and the Frozen Four, and with his graduation coming up, so maybe it’s one of those things, or all of them. Softly, Bitty says, “Come in?”

Jack shuffles into his room and pushes the door shut, awkwardly hovering next to Bitty’s bed. Bitty halfway closes his laptop, sits down on his bed, and gives Jack a nudge to join him.

Neither of them says a word. Their shoulders are almost touching and Bitty wants nothing more than to lean closer. He doesn’t. Minute after minute ticks by, then Jack says, “My dad called earlier.”

“Oh?” Bitty says. He doesn’t know too much about Jack’s relationship with his dad; it’s not something he wanted to ask Jack about, because it’s clearly complicated. Bitty managed to figure that much out on his own.

“We talked about some teams that might be interested in offering me a contract,” Jack goes on. “I kept going over what he said. And…”

“And?”

“Any no matter what team I end up signing with… Playing without you is gonna be strange.”

“Playing without you is gonna be weird, too.” Bitty fiddles with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. “And without Shitty. But,” he gently elbows Jack, “you’ll get to play in the NHL.”

“Yeah.” For a second, Bitty thinks that he might say something else, but in the end Jack only ruffles his hair. “Better go to bed, Bittle. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“I’ll see you in two hours for checking practice,” Jack says as he gets up. Bitty can hear the smile in his voice. They’re not on for checking practice in the morning, thank the Lord.

Still, Bitty says, “Have fun dragging my dead body to Faber.”

Jack huffs out a quiet laugh. “Good night, Bittle.”

“Night, Jack.”

Jack stops with his hand on the door handle. “Do you want to go to Annie’s after your afternoon class? I owe you one of those latte things.”

Actually, Jack doesn’t owe him anything. Jack has, in fact, paid for at least nine out of their last ten visits to Annie’s, so it’s really Bitty who owes Jack a gigantic bucket of coffee, but Jack is the one who’s about to sign an NHL contract, so Bitty says, “Sure.”

“All right.” A smile’s tugging at Jack lips as he leaves.

When Bitty returns to his laptop after Jack is gone, he realizes that he didn’t end the recording when Jack showed up.

He deletes it right away. He doesn’t need to hear again how small Jack’s voice sounded when he said, _Playing without you is gonna be strange_. Jack meant the team, of course. Not just Bitty. Although Bitty’s part of the team, isn’t he?

 

**#6**

“Now, the secret to a nice and smooth–”

Bitty’s phone buzzes.

He glares at the camera. “The secret to not messing up your recordings is to make sure your phone won’t go off.”

Bitty picks up his phone because he’ll have to redo this bit anyway. It’s a text from Jack. _I could pick you up at the station on Friday, when’s your train getting here?_

 _5:15, thanks honey xxx_ , Bitty replies.

Bitty glances at the camera. Then at his phone. Then back at the camera. Back at his phone. He chews on his bottom lip, picking at his phone case.

“Where was I?”

He’s pretty sure that he was talking about pie fillings before Jack texted him. But now he really can’t think about anything other than Jack.

Bitty’s going to Providence on Friday, and he’s staying at Jack’s for the entire weekend and he’s about as nervous about it as he is excited. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s visiting Jack.

It’s the _second_ time.

“He’s so sweet,” Bitty says, because Jack _is_ sweet, he’s the sweetest boy anyone could ever ask for, and he makes Bitty so, so happy.

There’s a _but_ hanging in the air.

It’s the middle of August and it’s been three months since Jack kissed him at graduation, and it’s been over a month since Jack kissed him in the back of the Bittles’ pick-up truck, and it’s been two weeks since Jack kissed him in his apartment in Providence.

Bitty is so ready for Jack to more-than-kiss him. Except he’s really not. Or he sure as hell wasn’t ready last time. He was ready to kiss Jack until they were both breathless, horizontal on Jack’s couch, arms and legs wrapped around Jack, so close, Jack’s hands warm on his skin. It was the best feeling in the world. And then he thought about where they were headed, kissing, and touching, and wrapped all around each other, and Bitty sort of… froze.

And Jack was so great about it, really. “Because he’s so sweet,” Bitty whispers. “He’s so patient. And it’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just scared that I’ll do something wrong.”

Which is ridiculous. Because Jack is not going to break up with him, not because of that.

“I should talk to him about it, shouldn’t I?”

He doesn’t get an answer. No one’s listening. That’s why he’s saying all of this in the first place, because no one can hear.

“I just don’t want to mess this up.” Bitty stares down at his phone. “I really, really like him. And I don’t want to bother him or anything, because he has so much on his plate already, I mean, he’s going to play in the NHL, that’s… that’s his dream and then there’s me and I’m–”

His phone buzzes again.

It’s Jack. _I’ll be there :-) Skype in five minutes?_

Bitty smiles down at his phone and absent-mindedly ends the recording.

 

**#7**

Bitty is well aware that he’s spent at least a minute or two blankly staring at the camera.

“Bro,” Holster says. He’s downstairs but Bitty can hear him just fine. And he sounds betrayed. “That was my pie!”

“No, it wasn’t,” comes Ransom’s reply. “Anyway, there’s another one.”

“Bitty said that one’s for _later_.”

“Guys…” Nursey says. “ _Chill_.”

“Oh my _God_ … I’m leaving.”

“Dex, come on–”

“No, I actually need to go, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow if you don’t murder each other over that pie.”

The front door slams shut.

“I can’t believe you ate my pie.”

Bitty leans back in his chair. “I can’t believe I’m gonna find two dead bodies in the kitchen later because of a slice of pie.”

Bitty has half a mind to go downstairs and tell them that they can eat the one that’s sitting on the counter just so they’ll shut up. He took it out of the oven about fifteen minutes ago, then he sat down to get started on his next vlog, but Bitty’s not really in the mood for this right now.

“I miss Jack,” he mumbles.

Jack has been away on a roadie and even though he’s coming back to Providence after tonight’s game, it’s still going to be a couple of days until they see each other. Jack’s been texting him every day, sometimes they even managed to squeeze in a quick Skype call, but it’s not the same. Even when Bitty is in Samwell and Jack is in Providence, going to Jack’s is an option. When he’s on the road, all that’s in Providence is an empty apartment.

It’d help if Bitty could just tell someone other than his camera about how much he misses Jack.

They’ve talked about telling the boys and Lardo. Or at least some of them. They never really finished that talk, though. It was all _maybe_ s and _someday_ s and then it sort of got postponed in favor of more pressing issues, like Bitty’s hand running up and down Jack’s thigh and Jack’s lips brushing against Bitty’s temple.

Bitty can feel his face growing hot. He misses that, too. Jack’s lips. And his hands. And _everything_.

He picks up his phone and only very nearly stops himself from calling Jack. Because Jack is busy and he’s probably turned off his phone and Bitty just needs to get a grip, honestly, because he knew what he was getting into, he knew Jack wouldn’t always be in Providence, and he knew that there’d be days like this one.

Bitty wonders if Lardo would mind if he hung out in her room for a little while. She’s working on a project, but Bitty would be really quiet. It’s not like he could tell her anything.

“I know I’m being silly,” Bitty says, “but–”

Somewhere downstairs, Holster lets out a shriek.

“Shitty!!” Chowder shouts. “Lardo! Bitty! Shitty is here!!”

Bitty bites his lip. He knew Shitty was coming to watch Jack’s game with them, hence the pie that no one is allowed to touch, and he was looking forward to having him back at the Haus, but right now he doesn’t really feel like being around anyone. He should still go downstairs, though. The guys will distract him in no time; he’ll be fine.

He glares down at his phone one last time. He’ll call Jack later, after the game. Or tomorrow morning, once Jack has managed to get some sleep, because he’ll be exhausted when he gets home tonight.

This can wait.

Footsteps approach his room and Bitty’s hoping that it’s just Chowder, headed for his own room. And it does turn out to be Chowder, but he ends up knocking on Bitty’s door. “Bitty?”

“What’s up?” Bitty says.

The door opens and Chowder’s head appears. “Are you coming downstairs? Jack’s game starts in a bit.”

Bitty nods. “Yeah, I’ll be right down.” He’s looking forward to seeing Jack, even if it’s just on TV. He smiles at Chowder, hoping he won’t notice that it’s all wobbly.

“‘Swawesome,” Chowders says, but it takes him a second to beam right back at him.

The door clicks shut.

“It’s fine,” Bitty says.

He’ll talk to Jack tomorrow. It’s just one day. Not even a _whole_ day. And then it’s just a few more days until they see each other, until Bitty gets to be close to him again.

 _Just a few more days_.

Bitty nods at the camera. “I’m fine…” he says and stops recording.

 

**#8**

“Oh my God, okay,” Bitty says, still fiddling with the camera. “Before I finally finish this vlog, because, seriously, I’ve been trying to for _days_ … I have news and everyone in the house already knows because they’re there, but I’m just so happy right now.”

Bitty’s smile is so wide that it hurts his cheeks.

He takes a deep breath. “Jack drove up after he got home last night, that silly boy.”

Yeah, he definitely can’t post any of this.

Anyway, that silly boy, _his_ silly boy is the best thing that has ever happened to him in his entire flippin’ life, because that silly boy drove all the way to Samwell last night right after he got back from a roadie in the middle of the night.

Bitty wants to cry just thinking about it. Jack on his doorstep, still in his suit, soaked to the bone, holding him, and Jack in his room, peeling off his wet clothes, and Jack in his bed, curled around him, his lips brushing against the back of Bitty’s neck when he said, “Let’s tell them, Bits. Tomorrow, while I’m still here.”

“Yeah,” Bitty says, “so we told the team. They know.”

Yep. Definitely not posting this.

“I don’t have to sneak in and out of the Haus anymore,” Bitty says. He doesn’t have to  lie, doesn’t have to invent cousins at Brown anymore, he can just say, _Hey, I’m going to Jack’s tonight_. And maybe he’ll leave the house with people wolf-whistling and shouting, _Get it, Bits_ , in the background, but the thought still makes him smile.

And– “Jack wants to tell his parents, too.”

The last twenty-four hours were entirely too stressful for Bitty’s poor little heart, and he’s actually way too tired to record a vlog right now, he can barely even think straight. Bitty is so exhausted that he almost misses it when his phone starts buzzing with an incoming call from Jack. Bitty frowns. “Jack? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Bits, everything’s fine,” Jack says. Bitty can hear the smile in his voice. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m back in Providence.”

“Was the drive okay?”

Jack hums. “Just fine. Everything okay at the house?”

“Yeah, I told the boys that I’m taking a nap because I didn’t get too much sleep last night,” and Ransom and Holster’s hooting had followed him all the way up the stairs.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, honey, don’t worry.” Bitty yawns. “Sorry…”

“Bits,” Jack says. “You should have taken a nap with me this afternoon.”

But this afternoon Bitty had been way too giddy to sleep. He probably would have been all restless and that would have kept Jack up, too. Bitty yawns again.

“Go take a nap,” Jack says.

“But…” But Bitty really doesn’t want to stop talking to Jack just yet.

“I’ll call you again later,” Jack says, because he just knows him much too well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Bitty nearly forgets to turn off his camera before he finally faceplants on his bed.

 

**#9**

“Moving on to Hannah’s question. She wants to know how to keep chocolate from burning when you melt it. Now, Hannah, if you–”

Somewhere in the Haus a floorboard creaks. 

Bitty frowns. “Well, Hannah, just pretend the burnt bits are nuts,” he says, because this take is ruined anyway.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s a knock on his door. Because, until a second ago, Bitty was pretty dang sure that he was the only one at the Haus. Well. Classes get cancelled sometimes, right?

It seems that he was a little slow to react, because there’s another knock, followed by a tentative, “Bittle?”

Wait.

“Jack?”

Bitty nearly trips over his chair and then over his own feet as he scrambles for the door. And there is Jack, in sweatpants and a Falconers shirt and cap, so Bitty’s guessing that he drove to Samwell right after practice. Jack’s smile is lighting up his whole face and Bitty realizes that he’s gaping, but he was so not expecting this.

“Don’t you have a meeting this afternoon?” Bitty asks. He’s sure that Jack said something about a meeting when they talked last night.

“It got cancelled and since you don’t have classes this afternoon, I thought I could drop by.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bitty says and slings his arms around Jack’s neck and jumps. Jack catches him by his thighs, effortlessly, with a surprised laugh.

“Bits,” Jack says, and there’s so much fondness in it that Bitty basically melts in his arms.

He kisses Jack; honestly, he’s surprised that he made it this long without kissing him. No offense, but Bitty hasn’t seen Jack in about a hundred years. He would have gone down to Providence sometime during the next week, but having Jack here right now is even better.

Jack smiles against Bitty’s lips. “It’s good to see you.”

Bitty kisses his cheeks, and the corner of his mouth, and the tip of his nose, and he really just can’t stop kissing Jack. He doesn’t want to stop, ever. “Are you staying the night?”

“If you want me to,” Jack says. He lets Bitty get his feet back on the floor, but still holds on to him, like he can’t bring himself to let go just yet. “I’ll have to leave early, though.”

“That’s fine,” Bitty says and buries his face in Jack’s sweater. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

Jack kisses the top of his head. “Bittle?”

“Hmm?”

Jack’s hand slowly slides down Bitty’s back, fingers toying with the hem of Bitty’s sweater before his thumb slips under it, briefly brushing over Bitty’s skin. “Do you have any plans for this afternoon?”

“I’m guessing I do now,” Bitty says, grinning up at Jack. Part of him kind of wants to pull Jack into bed with him and stay there until Jack has to go back to Providence tomorrow morning, but going out sounds nice, too. They barely ever do that anyway, just because it’s easier to stay behind closed doors. “What did you have in mind?”

Jack leans down for another kiss before he replies. “We haven’t been to Annie’s in a while.”

“We haven’t,” Bitty agrees. But before they leave he has to kiss Jack again.

It takes Bitty an embarrassingly long time to get his shoes on because he’s just so busy grinning at Jack, then Jack helps him into his coat and Bitty’s heart nearly explodes.

“All right, let’s– Oh, wait.”

He completely forgot about the video he’d been recording.

“And don’t forget your scarf, Bits. It’s chilly outside,” Jack says. He doesn’t add, _Or at least_ you _would think it’s chilly_ , but it’s heavily implied.

Bitty smiles at him over his shoulder and turns off his camera.

The next day, when Jack is gone, Bitty watches the video, watches his own eyes go wide when he realizes that Jack is outside his door, watches himself jump into Jack’s arms, watches them kissing.

Bitty wants to keep this one forever. He can’t, of course. Because what if someone who isn’t supposed to see it somehow gets a hold of it?

He sighs and watches it one last time. Then he clicks _delete_.

 

**#10**

“Now this,” Bitty holds up the pie he made earlier, “is what it’s supposed to look like when it’s done.”

It’s strange to film this in Jack’s kitchen. Bitty started the video with, _So a friend of mine is letting me use his dream of a kitchen today,_ and he’s made sure that nothing whatsoever will give away that it’s NHL star Jack Zimmermann’s kitchen. Although people know that he’s friends with Jack, so maybe no one would be suspicious.

Still. Better safe than sorry, right?

Bitty puts down the pie. “If you–”

“Bittle?” Jack’s in the hallway, his footsteps approaching the kitchen. “I’m off to practice, do you need me to get anything on the way back?”

“I’m good, honey.”

“No butter?”

“I think you got enough butter yesterday.”

“I just wanted to be thorough.”

“I know,” Bitty says. Jack is nothing but thorough. And by now, Bitty is sure, Jack actually knows the ingredients he needs for most of his pies by heart. Or he’s written them down somewhere.

“Well, text me if anything comes up, eh?” Jack finally appears in the kitchen door, eyes going wide. “Were you recording a video?”

“I can edit it.”

Jack makes a face. “Sorry. You said you were going to, I forgot.”

“No worries.”

Jack smiles. “So I’m guessing you can’t use that one no matter what happens, right?”

Bitty narrows his eyes at him. “Right.”

“Well…” Jack drops his bag and walks over to him, bending down to plant a quick kiss on Bitty’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun at practice, sweetheart,” Bitty says as Jack turns to leave. “Say hi to the boys from me.”

When he says _the boys_ , he means Marty and Thirdy, because he’s actually met those two. Bitty’s hoping that Jack will invite them over for dinner sometime soon. Maybe he’ll invite Tater, too. And Snowy. Or at least Jack has been thinking about it, mumbling it to Bitty after they’d crawled into bed together.

“Will do,” Jack says, picks up his bag and waves as he leaves. “Bye, Bits. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The front door opens, then falls shut.

Bitty looks at the camera, his face so red that it almost matches his Samwell shirt. “Did y’all hear that? He loves me.”

Bitty grins. Gosh, that boy makes him smile so much. It’s ridiculous. It’s not even the first time, honestly, Bitty has lost count of how many times Jack has told him he loves him, he’s lost count of how many times he’s told Jack, but it still makes him feel like he’s floating every single time.

Who would have thought that he’d end up here? In this perfect kitchen, on this perfect day, with such a perfect boy.

“He _loves_ me,” Bitty says again.

He ends the recording, so he can start over. It’ll take him a long time to convince himself to delete this one.

 

**#11**

“Hey, y’all! I know, I know, it’s been _ages_. But, as most of you probably know, there’s been a lot goin’ on in my life.”

 _Seriously. A lot_.

He led his team to the Frozen Four and they won. He graduated. He found a job at a bakery after a couple of pretty aimless months. He moved everything he had at the Haus into Jack’s apartment in Providence. Telling his parents was– Well, at this point Bitty actually thinks that they’ll be fine with him being gay. And with him having a boyfriend. And with him living with said boyfriend.

His boyfriend, who is a Stanley Cup champion.

His boyfriend, who woke him up with a kiss this morning and made him breakfast. 

His boyfriend, who starts cursing quietly in French when he trips over something in the hallway.

Bitty smirks. “You okay, honey?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Bits, have you seen my–” Jack stops dead in the doorway. “I just ruined another one of your videos, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay, honey. I should have told you that I was recording.”

Really, it has been ages.

With Jack coming out and all, it’s been… Well, the internet’s been a hellscape. These days, Jack turns off the TV as soon as his name is mentioned. It hasn’t been easy, but it also hasn’t been as hard as they feared it might be. They’re dealing with it. Together.

Jack leans against the frame of the door and smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Bitty says and pats the empty chair next to him. “Come ‘ere.”

Jack sits down, ignores Bitty’s laptop and leans right in for a kiss. “My mom just called,” Jack mumbles against Bitty’s lips.

“How’s she doing?”

Another kiss.

“Good. She and Papa want to come by for the game against the Schooners in two weeks. That okay? They might stay for a couple of days.”

“‘Course that’s okay,” Bitty says. He reaches out to cup Jack’s check, thumb running along his cheekbone, and Jack turns his head to kiss the palm of Bitty’s hand. His fingers curl around Bitty’s wrist, then he slowly turns his hand over and kisses his knuckles. “Jack…”

“Hm?”

“I…” Bitty’s breath hitches when Jack leans close, their noses bumping. He glances at his camera and clears his throat.

Jack follows his gaze. “Right, I’ll leave you to it,” Jack says. He kisses Bitty’s jaw. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“You’d better.”

“I’ll wait for you in the living room,” Jack whispers. There’s nothing at all suggestive about it, but it still sets Bitty’s skin on fire when Jack’s fingers brush over his cheek.

One more kiss, a gentle one, slow and languid, before Jack stands up and leaves.

Bitty watches him go because, really, how could he not?

He hits _stop_ on his recording. He doesn’t start a new one, because Jack is waiting for him in the living room and he won’t be able to concentrate on anything else anyway. Bitty doesn’t delete the video, though. It doesn’t matter that it’s basically just several minutes of him and Jack kissing, it doesn’t matter if someone who isn’t Jack or Bitty ever sees it.

Everyone already knows.

This one he can keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @zimmbits, who listened to all of my complaining while I wrote this.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :))
> 
> (And I'm @zimmermaenner on tumblr if anyone wants to drop by!)


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